


I Am Shell, I Am Bone

by IntoTheFire



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Humor, Minor Violence, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), One Shot, Sassy Michonne, Season 9, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheFire/pseuds/IntoTheFire
Summary: Negan claims he can be trusted now, though the leader of Alexandria is rightly skeptical. Much like how Rick once tested her all those years back, Michonne bites the bullet and takes Negan out on a scavenge run, so he can begin to prove his worth.





	I Am Shell, I Am Bone

**Author's Note:**

> | A little idea I started a month ago, inspired by their scenes. Wonder what would happen if they went on a run together. P.S. Never thought I would ship these two this hard, but here we are haha. Hope you enjoy ~

                                       

       »»————-　　                                                                                                                    ————-««

 

Traversing reluctantly once again to his cell, their conversation was still rattling around in her skull. _Think on it._ Spotting the form perching on the bench, engrossing in literature, Michonne steps forward without a word. Jingling of keys in the chilled, hollow room, snaps him from his concentration. The way his expression lit up and laid upon her, it was as though he had been expecting her. Negan always had to appear as if everything was going according to his plan. It certainly didn’t help his case. Nonetheless, studying him like snared prey, Michonne pulls open the barred door, stepping aside.

The cloudless sky blazes blue and the sun, free and vibrant was a sight to behold upon the town. Gazing up, the warm glow felt good on Michonne’s skin as she closed her eyelids, wanting to savour it. A gentle breeze brushes its fingertips along the towering trees, donning their lush hues. Finally gone were the months of wintry light and bitter winds. Her face relaxing while taking in the atmosphere, the feeling took her back to a simpler time. A memory. Perching on the bridge, listening to the wood turning, water caresses around her outstretched fingers, eddying in its wake. A sudden urge to bathe or jump in consumes her, but the brief moment of escapism breaks when Michonne suddenly jerks back to the present when she overhears people calling out to each other. Rising to her feet and flipping her dreadlocks, she heads towards the entrance to find Siddiq and Aaron conversing. Taking in their silence at her presence, they reflect uncertainty about her decision. She wasn’t too sure of it herself.

The idea had first crossed her mind as soon as it was discarded, but Judith had managed to talk her back into doing so.

Upon the front gates on Alexandria, with a watchful gaze focusing on the unbearably arrogant man, her brows drew together as she rallied through her options. She had to be prepared for anything, anticipate anything, as soon as they left their sanctuary. To her minor amusement, her thoughts even wander to when she last disposed of a major threat to Rick and the group. If only it was that simple now. Would’ve been easy too. Nevertheless, Michonne knew the risks and she was sticking to her decision now.

“I can go with you.” A soft, comforting voice like early birdsong fills her ears and breaks her train of thought as the young girl stops behind her.

Michonne turns with a soft sigh to meet her bold expression. Placing a hand on her back, she leads Judith far enough away before kneeling to gently cup her shoulders. “No. I need you here. In case anything happens.”

“Why?” Judith asks confusingly, studying her for a second. “You’re expecting something to happen. You think he’s gonna do something don’t you?”

All Michonne can do is sigh. Already having this talk before but knew it wouldn't be the last. 

“I know you say he’s dangerous, and I know what he did. But he’s still a human. People change and he’s already proving that. He can be useful here.”

The leader’s hard exterior always crumbled around her daughter. She was trying to remain strong for her, continue making the unkindest decisions if it meant this place stayed standing and the people thrived. It was all and well Judith showing faith, but if she only remembered everything they had endured when she was an infant, how many mistakes were made putting trust in the wrong people. Admittedly, it would also be a comfort if she didn’t. All the repercussions of their actions. The sacrifices. Over, and over. Moments that still haunt them to this day. That’s always a curse of those who survive… just having to live with themselves until their final moment. In the end, Judith was too much like her father, and like her brother for that matter; wanting to give people a chance, more than anything, second chances. It was like Rick Grimes was still here.

“I don’t know what to expect. But... I’ll try." She starts, "Your dad decided to keep him alive, so that’s what I intend to keep doing. I’m not going to let it all be for nothing.” Michonne kept her daughters gaze before they sank to the ground. Rick was always the better one at reading people. There were all kinds of darkness' hidden in people that still manage to slip through her better judgement. She just couldn't make that same mistake again, no after what had almost happened to the children of the community. “No room for errors now. So, I just need you here, sweetie.”

As much as her stubborn nature was getting the better of her, she was at least grateful Michonne was giving him that chance. She reluctantly nods. “Okay.”

Pulling a smile, a mask to hide how the words stung her recovering wounds, she presses her lips to the girl’s forehead. While Judith had a good spirit, she was still naive. In a way, Michonne envied that. She hadn’t experienced, nor fought through everything that had befell with Negan and the Saviours. Judith never knelt in that line-up... But even with all that in her mind, Michonne still understood why her daughter would say such things to defend the man. Some people are capable of change, she just wasn’t convinced that Negan could be one of them.

“Promise you’ll make it back?”

“Promise.”

A vow that had been passed between them every time they each went outside the walls, as Michonne pulled Judith in an embrace, stroking her soft hair. Their exchange went unnoticed by the former Saviour, following Michonne’s movements before laying his softer eyes on the young child, cracking a smile.

_Don’t fucking look at me like I’m being taken to my execution, kid. Shit._

Over the wearisome years of confinement, between the odd visits of Father Gabriel and the occasional Alexandrian keeping his hair and beard at bay, as well as the relishing bathes, the only folks that genuinely intrigued Negan or seemed worthy of his attention, were the young warrior herself and her hard-ass mother. He enjoys his talks with Judith, genuine chit chat as well as questions she would have about the prisoner, poking at the past. She was sweet but didn’t take shit, and was growing into quite the badass, a mirror image of her brother. Michonne on the other hand, proves on multiple occasions that she was battling with herself when it came to him, conflicting emotions and gut feelings that often results in her loss of composure in his presence. At times it felt like she wanted to believe more in Negan but couldn’t shake her suspicions and grudges. It was like her own captive torment.

As a result, the man couldn’t help but steal a glance cautiously at her getting in beside him, her stern focus directed at the road ahead. Through all the shit encountered in this world, Michonne was one of a few, that had stood out to him. Since from the moment Negan first laid eyes on her, he knew exactly what kind of survivor she was and what she had endured. How the samurai had glared him down incessantly in the face of death, at the hands of Lucille, like she was the one in control. It had shot straight through him excitedly. Nor does she hesitate to put him in his place recurrently – which he admittedly got a kick out of sometimes. And now, with how much the exotic woman in front of him radiated with strength and power of a leader, he couldn’t help but admire her briefly. Of course, now that Rick was gone, it was her to take over the reins and decide his fate. The sound of rattling metal of the gate being dragged open catches his attention. The cycle he overhears of people coming and leaving, while he sits on his lonesome in the same, fucking dull, empty cell every passing day.

“Let’s go.” Michonne’s harsh tone lingers, gripping the wheel.

One as perceptive as Negan had noticed overtime the icy and distant attitude she had adapted to. She wasn’t quite the same fiery and hopeful woman standing proudly behind the bars anymore, with an optimistic spark for the future. That fire had somewhat diminished. The whole thing felt… off. Before he was given the luxury of books to occupy his time, any company that dared to visit his cell helped kept him sane. With what little he had left to cling to, anyway. Maybe. Hell, the isolation had gotten him practically begging for Michonne’s company in the first place, as much as she was reluctant to give it. Clearly the absence of Rick was _still_ taking a heavy toll on her, just like everyone else. Fuck, even Negan would admit that this place felt weirdly wrong without the annoying prick. In the end, she was doing what she had to, to keep her group surviving. Just like he had done. Whether people agreed with her decisions or not. Warriors. Leaders. That’s what they were. And they had that in common. He hopes one day she’ll take him up on his offer of being a sounding board for her.

 

 

 

 

  
Not a single word was spoken during the ride out, nothing but crunching sounds of gravel against rubber as they drove steadily. It was as though all life outside had paused, waiting for their next move. Michonne kept her focus on the road as she suddenly recalls a similar situation. Only accompanying her back then, was someone warm and comforting. Behind her Carl sat staring out the window when he wasn’t glancing between them curiously, both he and his dad cautious and suspicious of where her own loyalties had lied. The… eventful day she did a favour for the boy - that damn gorgeous cat sculpture - the day there was a glint of hope that perhaps she’d found a group that was good, and supportive. That she needn’t be on her lonesome anymore. The memory was enough to make her jaw tense with returning raw emotion. Deep down, she still yearns for those days again. Michonne inhaled deeply and felt eyes on her in that same moment. Negan had visibly caught on, though thankfully kept any curiosities to himself.

She didn’t want to risk having someone else’s blood on her hands. If things went south, she knew she could handle her own if push came to shove. She’d handled herself against the Governor.

They find small structures on the side of the street along the way, but they come back empty handed. She felt they were wasting daylight at this point. For what seemed like hours, they finally spotted a row of houses in the remote wilderness, pulling to a stop where the road turned to dirt. Shooting a look in Negan’s direction out of the corner of her eye, she waits for him to get out first, keeping a close watch before following. Opening the trunk, Michonne reaches inside and pulls out ruffled, travel bags and tosses one to him silently.

He scoffs to himself, leaning his weight against the car, watching her as she scans the area first. It didn’t take a genius to piece together an expected attack has her nerves on end. The constant blinks in his direction, like he could strike or vanish at any moment. He can hardly blame her, it’s just beginning to get tedious trying to convince her otherwise.

Michonne finally turns to him again. “You’re with me.” She states, motioning him to follow her lead.

“Figured.” He mumbles under his breath.

Treading carefully up the squeaking steps and standing upon the wooden decking, Michonne peers inside, scanning left to right. It was dim, and there was silence. Apart from the footsteps of Negan behind her. Each room seems empty, but one couldn’t be too careful. Without so much as a blink, she speaks without looking at him. “Clear. Come on.” Thankfully the door only requires a minor amount of force to push open.

The once beautiful home appears the same as all the others, decrepit, disarrayed, overgrown, with traces of old residents plastered on the walls, the floors or left roaming. Images of what transpired in certain rooms flash in her mind, some unable to cope with how the world had changed, families, warnings and departing messages written in crimson. The same sights over and over. Stench of decay fills her sinuses, each groan of the floorboards a warning to her to tread carefully, scoping out each individual room, furnishings worn and tattered. Michonne trains the katana beside her, tightening her grip between each search. The foremost priority scavenging what they could and getting back before dark.

Abruptly, that deep southern accent shatters the eerie silence from behind. “You know, I’d be more useful to you with a weapon.”

Her face turns disgruntled. “No.”

“Look. You want me to prove I’m trustworthy, right? I can’t prove shit like this.”

“You’re kidding right?”

Negan huffs, tempted to push but knows better than to fight that losing battle. Deflated, he looks around the room for any supplies, searching through cabinets, draws, cupboards, and every possible crack. Moving to the living room, caught in the beaming, golden rays of the sun, it’s only when he spots the road stretching beyond through a shattered window that he pauses in his steps. He thinks of a day he probably would’ve tried to escape like this. Quick bash to the head and he would have his freedom. Funny how things now were undeniably different.

As if on cue, the suspicious stare burns a hole through the back of his head.

“I wouldn’t think of running. There’s nothing out there, Negan.” Michonne saw his head lower in acknowledgement to her addressing him. He knew exactly what she was referring to. “Not anymore.”

“I know. Though some would say it’s better than rotting to shit in a cell.”

Still fixated on the man as to what he was thinking, she shrugs. “You’re right. You could run, again. But it’s a long run to nowhere. If you think you can take your chances.”

Before passing a retort, their short exchange is interrupted by the presence of walkers who must’ve been lurking in the back, as they appear from the hallway. Before Negan can react, Michonne steps in with a flash of her sword from its sheath. With swift flicks of her blade, she mutilates the walkers and gives a clean slice through their heads, piles of rotten flesh dropping to the floor as she flicks off the blood from her blade. Just like from her restless nights sneaking out, empowerment courses through her with another rush of adrenaline.

“Shit. Always figured a woman like yourself carrying a sword like that, knows how to fucking use it, but goddamn.” He could get used to seeing _that_.

Ignoring the comment, she repeatedly scours the building through dirt and dust, heading back through previously visited rooms, passing down the halls. She cuts down any walkers that remain upstairs, with Negan trailing close behind her, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Now you’re just showing off.” He says somewhat amused.

She could roll her eyes at the constant nag of him trying to fill the silence and spur some sort of conversation between them. The need to try and bait her. As soon as they clear the first house, they work their way down and move to the next, to one more secluded. An aged, rusted swing stands in the front garden, the seat swaying hauntingly in the wind. While entering the creaking building, it’s transparently clear that Negan is bothered by his powerlessness, but Michonne wasn’t about to let her guard down. Instead, he offers to scope out the second floor and while she was opposed to it, preferably wanting the madman always within her sight, he was out here for a reason. She stiffly nods, watching him disappear up the steps, but not without a look that screams; _try anything and I’ll put one between your eyes_.

Her mind was whirling now. Potentially giving Negan an open opportunity, she was now on high alert. She presses on, keeping her eyes and ears open. It soon grew apparent that the place had been thoroughly cleared out, only managing to find a few discarded tins, a bottle of water and some extra clothes. Michonne comes across some old photos positioned above the fireplace, a family of four. A father, mother, a son and daughter. Huddled together, their smiles captured and preserved in the frame. She sighs deeply, wrenching her gaze away for her own good.

“God...” Her voice shakes, that familiar stab plunging at her chest. Before any tears can dare to form, she swipes at her eyes.

A sudden growl erupts from above where she stood, springing her mind back to the present. Dust falls from the ceiling from each crashing thud, like clockwork. It sets off alarm bells in her mind, that Michonne rushes to investigate, another sound filling her ears. The sickly squelching of caved in flesh fills the stairwell. She just needed to be sure it wasn’t what she _thought_ it would be.

She halts in the doorway at the scene.

“Fuck. Yeah!” He exclaims, striking the incapacitated walker with another crunching blow before breathing out huskily, standing over the body with a large crowbar where a thin layer of decomposed skin dangles off. “Still got it.”

A sudden trigger of memory from the bloodied weapon clutched in his hands makes her chest pound, rapidly forcing it to the back of her mind.

“Hey, must be my lucky day. Found this here on ‘em. Reckon I need it more than he does.” A pleased grin stretches across his face, feeling more alive than he’d felt in a while. _It's good to be back._ “What’d I fucking tell you, dreads? Being out here with the dead, hell of a lot more satisfying than picking daises in there.”

“We’re here, because my daughter has too much faith in you.” Michonne states firmly.

“She does, huh?” There’s a pause before he stands up straight again, reacting to her concerned expression. “Or you just have too little?” He chides.

“You know the answer to that.”

Negan barely nods, eyes wandering over her again, taking in every bit of her tense posture. He glances down at the crowbar in his grip. “Let me ask you something. Did the merciful Rick ever give _you_ a chance?”

Every nerve tense within her, blinking harshly. It takes restraint to not bite back. “Yes.” A face insinuates he got the answer he needed.

“Course, if his merry ways didn’t get to you, we wouldn’t be out here, would we?”

“No. We wouldn’t.” Borderline mocking them all, just rubs her the wrong way.

Negan hums, stepping away from the bloody, lifeless mess, gesturing around them. “So, this your idea or hers?”

Frowning at the sudden question, she shifts on the spot. _Why? Why would he ask that?_  For whatever reason, Michonne doesn’t wish to satisfy his curiosity, blankly responding. “Does it matter? You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“… _Yours_ , huh?”

Of course, he sees right through that, a glint of something in his dark eyes as the wheels turn in his head. Not sure what purpose any of this had, she exhales loudly, almost throwing her head back. “She talked me back into it, thought it would be a good idea. I’ve yet to know if that’s true or not.” For Judith’s sake she hopes it isn’t a waste of time, that her conviction wasn’t misplaced.

“Ahh, it’s not her fault. She grew a soft spot for me.” Negan’s smug expression and confident tone was enough to make her eyes roll, before he glances in her direction. “Though she ain’t alone in that.”

Michonne huffs, her eyes narrowing. “That’s very ambitious.”

The man takes a bold step towards her. “You know, for someone who doesn’t wanna talk to me, you’ve been pretty fucking chatty lately. I must really get under that skin of yours, huh? Far as I know, you had a choice to bring me out here. You didn’t _have_ to do shit. Hell, you didn’t even have to come back to my cell, all these years you could’ve avoided setting foot in there again, Michonne. But you didn’t.”

Like a snake, her eyes turn to slits now, not fond of the implications. It was her turn to take a step forward. “You think that means anything? You think I’m keeping you alive for other reasons? The only reason you aren’t in the ground yet is because Rick decided to be the better man. For Carl. And you can be damn sure I’m honouring that.”

“And here you are now. The same person who told me as long as I’m still alive and breathing, it’s not nothing.” Negan stated, the amusement gone but his voice softer. He suddenly recalls Carl’s letter, what the boy had envisioned for the future and how Michonne was the very person to read it to him over the radio. Irony. 

Averting her eyes, she stays silent and flares her nostrils in exasperation, mixed feelings overcoming her once again. 

“Know what I think – “ Negan begins, and Michonne is already uninterested. 

“No.”

“– I think you _want_   to trust me. I think you’re actually finding me decent fucking company, and you can’t stand that.”

Her head dips in humourless laughter. “I find the walkers decent company.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, darlin’. Six years is a long time.” Negan chuckles.

“Keep spouting that and I’ll leave your ass out here. Since you on the road, went so well last time.”

Michonne’s brows shot up in challenge. It shut him up, but his notorious victory smirk shot straight through her, knowing full well she had no intention to, even if she wanted to. Her charring scowl only amuses him more.

“There she is!" His face lights up gleefully. "I was fucking serious when I said you and I were alike, Michonne. You just don’t wanna see it.”

Striking a nerve, that was the sentence that told her she’s had enough as her jaw tenses, glancing outside and gripping her katana for reassurance. “We’re searching the next house.”

Watching her leave hurriedly, Negan sighs but can’t keep back his grin nonetheless as he follows her.

 

 

  

Stripping the last few houses of anything beneficial, it wasn’t much in terms of supplies for the community, but anything is better than nothing. The pair are mostly silent as they continue. Clouds cast across the sky, basking everything around them in dull saturation, the wind picking up slightly as trees rustle loudly above. With this area cleared out, Michonne steps out the house and descends the wooden stairs, clutching at her bag and heading for the dirt road leading them out.

Making a turn around the porch however, her arm is suddenly seized by Negan urgently, her blood turning cold. Shit. Before even thinking about what he might be trying to pull, he’s far more focused on the treeline in front of them, yanking her back around the corner and shushing her. Pulse thundering in her ears, Michonne follows his stare. Out of the forest emerges several of the undead, shuffling through the overhangs one after another. Practically holding their breaths, like deer caught in the headlights, they wait for the horde to pass. She doesn’t dare to turn her attention away between the horde and Negan in proximity, close enough to feel enveloped in his masculine scent and radiating warmth, when a sudden fixed grip on her ankle startles her.

A walker crawls out from the darkness under the porch, groaning hungrily, gripping tighter and snapping its jaw. The unsuspecting sight throws her off for a second, her body jolting in a struggle that twists her foot awkwardly with a crack, trying to break free. By then it was too late as they had drawn attention to themselves, another walker appearing from the shrubs to their right, snarling. With its arms outstretching, Negan turns to raise the crowbar and batters its brain to mush with a grunt, splattering the wall beside him while Michonne forces herself back to drag the legless corpse with her, before she plunges her sword through its skull. The death grip on her ankle leaves a dull throbbing pain.

With the oncoming horde homing in on the two survivors, they turn on their heels and flee, carving at scattering walkers closing in. With every swipe of her sword, forcing herself to run, her sprain sent sharp pains through her body, trailing behind. She felt like she could lose her balance at any moment. The growls grew louder until like dull roars, more coming in from every direction yet no direction at all.

“Son of a … bitch.” Michonne rumbles in pain. For the first time in a long time, she was fearful within an inch of her life. She had to survive. She had to.

Quick on his feet, Negan runs back to her side and throws her arm around his shoulders, assisting in taking her weight. However, the herd are gaining and Michonne looks in no shape to run, nor keep up with his movements. “Fuck this.” Negan grumbles and suddenly hauls her up over his shoulder with a startled grunt from Michonne, leaving her wide eyed and watching the horde approaching closer, practically nipping at their heels. They beat a retreat into one of the nearest houses and Negan grabs the couch next to the door and shoves with all his might to block it.

The samurai undoubtedly has enough of being in his grip as she struggles and throws curses at him, albeit a little dazed at what just happened. When Negan finally relinquishes and sets her down, her aged shirt rides up her toned, slender back, revealing a glimpse of a grisly scar on her flesh. _An “X”? What the fuck?_ Curiosity and confusion set in like crimson, but before he can even comprehend what it is, Michonne shoves at his body before stepping away swiftly into the next room, darting a look in his direction. He spots reflection of anger at his discovery as she fixes herself. Michonne would clearly not be giving him answers if he were to question, so he refrains.

“What the hell was that?”

“Woah! Shit. This how you treat someone who just saved your ass?” Negan catches his breath. “Though yours was the best view I’ve had in years.”

“Why did you save me?” Michonne cuts in cautiously, her stance defensive. “Pretty sure that was just your shot.”

“I can drag you back out there if you want. Gotta get you to trust me, right? Believe it or not, rather not have ya dead.”

“Yeah? You sure as hell couldn’t go back to Alexandria without me.”

“Well how about that? Seems like either way I need you and you need me.” Negan confirms confidently, his lips curling.

“Yeah? Or perhaps you’re planning something. You’ve had years biding your time, what’s a little more. Hardly anyone gives me a reason to trust them anymore, what the hell makes you think I’ll trust _you_ after what you did?”

His face drops, seriousness returning as he tries levelling with her again. “Whether you do or not, you’re gonna rely on me soon. I can tell you that.” Caught off guard, the look he gives her engraves itself into her mind.

“Whatever helps you sleep, Negan.” She jibes.

Scoffing, he walks to the window and squints through the grimy panes. He snickers breathlessly at the sight of their pursuers haunting the area outside, shuffling in random directions while a number were trying to force themselves in, pounding restlessly on the door and the walls. It’s a hellish image for anyone else, but right now an inconvenience. Negan hadn’t dealt with walkers for years, let alone a fucking herd. The car wasn’t too far from here, they just needed to make a run for it. Despite that, sinking to the floor rather casually, he gives a groan, watching her for a moment. “Better get comfortable.”

She sighs disappointingly, running her hands down her face. Guess they had no other choice but to wait. They were stuck here for now. The samurai then rips at her top and wraps it around her ankle for compression, after checking for any marks.

“How’s it holdin' up?” He asks, not a trace of concern in his voice.

She grumbles back. “I’ll live.”

Time passes agonisingly slowly, the rooms around them growing darker, the monsters scraping at the windows nothing more than silhouettes to the eye. After pacing a little, trying to come up with a strategy, Michonne eventually retires and slumps down opposite him, adamant on keeping him in her sights now especially, resting back against the wall.

  
_K i L l    t H e M..._

 

Michonne perks up at something unusual, she could’ve sworn she heard… a voice just now. It sounds like it came from outside, but it blends in with the mindless growls of the walkers.

  
_T h E y ’ R e   I n S i D e..  K i L l    t H e M..._

  
Her eyes widen, a chill shooting down her spine, wondering if it was her mind playing sick tricks on her. She was unsure what to make of it, glancing at Negan, but he doesn’t seem at all phased. In fact, he seems oblivious to the whole thing. “You hear that?”

He lifts his head. “Hear what?”

“Voices…” Michonne trails off, processing how it sounds passing her lips, before shaking her head with a grunt. “Forget it.” 

“The hell kind of voices?”

“I don’t know. Just voices. Out there.” She nods. “I couldn’t make out anything, though.”

Negan frowns at that confusingly and turns his attention back to peering through the window, beyond the herd. Nothing but the undead out there, scratching away at the walls. Unless there were people hiding nearby, he couldn’t see nor hear anyone. He sinks back down again, dismissing it. “Got nothin'.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighs deeply. Perhaps she was just becoming paranoid, an uneasy feeling of being watched wherever she went just kept growing. The enemy lurking in the shadows. Listening intently in case they return, she wonders how they’re going to get out of this.

“Better make a run for it soon, if shit don’t quiet down. Your friends sure will be missin' you.” That deep tone once again filling her ears and travelling straight through her.

“They’ll probably presume the worst by nightfall.” She says evenly, giving him a knowing look.

“Well in all fairness, I got news for you, Michonne. I’m the least of your problems.” He gestures.

“You’ve been anything but the least of my problems.”

Negan battles with being offended or amused at the comment, resting on the latter as he stares up at the ceiling, both of them keeping a calm composure despite their situation. That was at least something not to deal with. She has instinctive feelings that there weren’t enough in numbers to break through, but they were currently surrounding them at each angle.

 

 

 

   
More time passes. As the amber glowing sun dips below the horizon, the fleeting colours of dusk begin to fade away, illuminating a quivering path of wispy clouds, casting the grounds below in shadow. The sight carries a certain sadness within her.

Hearing the commotion slowly dying down around them, the light patter of forming raindrops along the roof and glass, more of the walking corpses losing interest, Michonne exhales and rests her eyes. She wishes this day would just end. That when she awakens, the sky will be radiant with the first kiss of the new day. But to no avail. It doesn’t help that Negan slouches across from her, whistling to himself. The incessant noise became increasingly irritating over time. Apparently, she must’ve been glaring harder than she anticipated as he shrugs.

“Might as well kill time, huh?”

“And that’s what you chose?” She disparages.

“Well, I can think of better things, too. I’m open to suggestions.” A sly grin twitches at the corners.

A wave of discomfort consumes her from the underlying vulgarity. “Do you ever stop talking?” Michonne sighs.

“Can’t say I do.” He flashes a crooked smirk. “Would make a change if you did the talking.”

“And what would be the point in that?”

“Pretty sure they call it making conversation. And you just so happen to be here… and someone interesting. Come on, I can think of worse people to be holed up with, dreads.”

Michonne tilts her head and glowers. “Funny. I don’t think I can.”

“Goddamn. You’re a broken record, aren’t you? Can’t say shit to me without giving me shit.”

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

Negan just grins wider, something about her getting riled up and spitting back everything he throws at her, makes his pulse race. “You hate my guts, I know. You probably still wanna see me dead, too. I get that. But I’m not asking for much right now, Michonne, you and I talked plenty before. Granted I was behind bars.”

With a deep sigh, she tilts her head back against the moulded wall again, staring off into the distance. “We don’t need to talk. I’ve nothing to say to you.”

“Sure about that? Come on, I’m sure there’s a lot you wanna say to me.”

She draws out a chuckle with a sneer. Ignoring him was never an option when he gets under her skin so naturally. “That I haven’t already?”

He doesn’t reply, only stares. Like he does when he waits for her to continue.

“You always want me to talk. Ever since then... and now… Why the hell do you care what I think, what does it matter to you?” Michonne spits out questions in frustration, firing more when it goes unanswered for too long. “Why’d you reach out to me in the first place? Thought you could use something from me?”

The older man shrugs and sinks his head, resting his linked hands on his knees.

Michonne’s face unwillingly softens in realisation. “You were lonely.” She murmurs, her chest suddenly tightening, remembering all too well the sinking feeling that never eased, only faded into the background. The early memories of waking up in an empty, cold bed, retrieving the colt from its case only to stare at it. She hadn’t often left the room after that day, when she felt she had lost everything. She’d wanted something to pick her up and carry her away.

Her words linger in the silence, like a dark, dirty secret risen to the surface, before Negan finally speaks up again. “I know you’ve asked yourself the same shit. Why you came back, being the one to tell me about Rick. What were ya hoping for?” Negan’s gaze never falters, always left feeling bare and unravelled to him the longer he observes. “Nothin'. You were just lonely too.”

Michonne doesn’t know what to say, but neither did she want to think about that. Those raw feelings were suddenly caught in her throat, as her breath trembles. Before she can recall whom, she’s dropping the mask to, her words break out. “Everything that’s happened, sometimes I wish I could just, leave, and take all the risk with me...”

It’s no exaggeration that it catches him off guard. A little stumped. _The hell's that supposed to mean?_   His eyes trace her form, not knowing how to handle the situation, wetting his lips. “It so out of line for an asshole like me to tell you, you should stay?” He returns seriously, catching her surprisingly softer gaze.

Michonne shakes her head. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave. But sometimes I think about it, taking Judith and RJ with me.”

Another pause. “You ask me, that place, those people, need you.”

  
_No, they don’t. They need Rick.._

  
She grips her sword with more force than necessary. She could laugh. Who would’ve thought that Negan would be one to hear all this? He had asked her why. Perhaps she just needed someone to listen that wouldn’t look at her like she could break at any moment. Like she had gradually become that fragile. That same look of sympathy she’d seen everywhere, making them think to tread carefully and trip over their words around her. Whereas Negan wouldn’t blink. She deeply appreciated all the support, everyone’s kind words, she hated that it just… couldn’t help.

Michonne felt the urge of slumber rush towards her like a freight train, but she fought with what strength she had left. The activity outside begins to subside the longer they shelter inside, curious as to how long they’ve been trapped in this damn house. Negan seems to have a similar thought as he listens intently, leisurely getting to his feet and peering through the curtains once more. Satisfied, he gathers the gear together.

“Negan. What are you doing?”

“Would ya rather we sit here and play fucking house? You got a little girl waiting for you back home.” He rises to his feet, crowbar in hand. It eventually stirs the woman to stand, eyeing him before shooting a glimpse outside.

This was their chance. But before they make a break for it into life or death once again, her courtesy eats away at her. Whether or not it be a manoeuvre, Negan had still saved her life. “Negan.” Inhaling deeply, Michonne turns to avoid his face. “Thank you.” She mumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said,  _thank you_.” Repeating louder, irritation sweeps through her when she feels the beaming complacency from him. He’d heard her before, he just wanted to hear it from her again. It’s enough to satisfy either way. _Asshole._

  
Kicking the door almost off its hinges, more than unnecessary, Negan leads first paying mind to Michonne’s injury as he begins paving a way for her. “I’m gonna put the fucking daylight through you dead fucks. Come on.” Negan hums, sheer thrill returning as he rams his way through the walkers turning in their direction.

He swings the crowbar over his head excessively, other times thrusting the jagged metal through their hollow sockets. The more he kills, the more he looks to be having the time of his life, keeping tabs on Michonne now fixed beside him. To his relative astonishment, with flawless motion, Michonne turns in a horseshoe and carves at the undead surrounding her with one clean strike, even the crystallising drops of rainfall slice and fall delicately from her tainted blade.

Roaming bodies begin falling around them like a ripple effect, as they make their way closer to their escape. Head snapping in all directions, they each trade blows to the empty shells that were once people, now a foul sight of loosely hanging skin, rotten muscle tissue and stripped bone. Inching closer, when Negan begins getting swarmed, she steps in and cuts them down effortlessly, swinging her sword over and over, a sea of moonlight red coating their worn attire. _To hell with having a debt owed to Negan._ Rain begins downpouring in silver sheets, each drop pitting the surface like bullets against the hard ground and gliding over Michonne’s skin so strongly as if in the flow of a river. The world turns to blurs as the trees offer no shelter for them, washing away the pools of blood beneath their feet. Starving groans and snapping teeth keep charging towards them, trying to grab at their thrashing limbs.

Finding an opening and soaked to the bone, the two practically leap in the car’s interior, throwing the bags inside and wasting no time roaring the engine to life while stiff clambering hands grate at the sides, relentless to feast on their prey. Some claw their way inside, Negan lifting his weapon and bashing them back enough to slam the door. Stomping on the pedal, they make haste with the dead trailing behind them, leaving a cloud of dust fading into air. All Michonne can do is watch in the mirror of the horde pulling into the distance, catching her breath.

In the limited time they had before nightfall, the pair venture down the roads again with a little more urgency. Negan pants next to her, running a hand through his hair, that same buzz overtaking him after another close call with death. It’s not long before he’s grinning to himself. The hammering beads on the windshield begin to settle, not unlike Michonne’s thoughts as it replays the events of their outing. Needless to say, Michonne wasn’t ready for what Negan had to share.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?” He chortles, casually resting his arm against the window.

She can’t possibly think of how to respond to that. Her face says it all.

Negan smirks. “I don’t know about you, but _holy hell_ , we should do that again sometime.” 

 

 

 

  

The moment they cross the threshold of Alexandria, pulling to a stop when the gates close behind them hurriedly, young Judith runs up to them, taking in her mother coated in dried blood. Others soon follow in concern, shooting glances between Michonne and Negan, waiting for some sort of explanation.

“What happened?” Judith speaks up before anyone else, pulling away from their embrace.

 _Has she been waiting here the entire time?_ Michonne hesitates for a moment before cupping her soft cheek delicately. “I’ll tell you later.” She catches the look Negan gives them both as he is dejectedly escorted back to his cell.

Michonne’s ankle is treated almost immediately by Siddiq, who seeped with curiosity about what had happened beyond the walls. She keeps it vague for now. Instead, she informs Judith everything that had transpired during dinner that night, when she grows worried. The way she perks up does not go unnoticed, and it honestly pulls at her lips into a smile. Despite the subject at hand. With the silent evening now casting over Alexandria, Michonne sits by her lonesome on the wooden porch with a glass in hand, staring at the ground. This day left her a lot to think about.

Withdrawing inside her mind, it was strange and unsettling how Negan’s character was beginning to revive the dying ember within her, intrigue her, driving out quips and remarks she never used to have the strength for anymore. Every ounce of her was done listening to his shit, but some other force was pushing her to play his game. Constantly trying to one up each other. And his words always seem to claw their way through her barrier, always made her think. In the end, he was acting like he was her advisor, trying to make her see a bigger perspective. Grasping her glass tighter, Michonne holds her head. In some sort of sick irony, she was forced to admit that they had somewhat depended on each other during these several years. Just like back out there. _But why was Negan trying to help her?_

“Mom?” Judith pokes her head outside, interrupting her brooding. “I’m going to bed, now. I made sure RJ was asleep.”

“Alright, sweetie. I’ll be up soon.” She returns with her own warm smile, giving another kiss to the girl before she disappears inside. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Only, after a while, she turns on her heel and back to Michonne. “And mom..?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm glad you're okay.” She speaks softly, fiddling at the material of her pyjamas.

Her heart practically melts again. Michonne half smiles with a nod of her head, knowing what she meant. She could tell she was grateful for what she did, but felt there were other things on Judith’s mind that she was holding back. Michonne must’ve looked incredibly exhausted as Judith’s young eyes scan her face, moving in to give her a tight hug.

“Goodnight.” Judith parts once more as she heads upstairs with that energetic sway.

Watching her leave, Michonne sighs deeply, not knowing how to feel. Lost in her solitude, she eventually lifts her gaze to see lights were out in most of the houses across from her, leaving Michonne to stare into blackness. At last, she turns her weary head and lets her eyes wander to the direction of the man’s cell. That same flashing smirk Negan gives as she enters the room like he’s pleased to see her. Before Michonne can even process, her feet begin moving on their own accord, leaving her empty glass on the table.

 

   

 


End file.
